The Lens of Passion
by affairoftheheart
Summary: Thanks to a lesson in Potions class, Draco finds the courage he needed all along in the girl he thought he hated. Was it Hermione’s fault the Vanishing Cabinet was finally mended? HBP. Dramione. UP FOR ADOPTION YET AGAIN!SEE PROFILE FOR INFO.
1. Theft of the Wand

A/N: This is a story my friend wrote. It was her first attempt at fanfiction. These four chapters are what she wrote before she decided fanfiction wasn't for her. I told her I'd post it and put it up for adoption. If you want to submit a review on this story, I'll be sure to pass it along to her.

THE LENS OF PASSION

Chapter 1: Theft of the Wand

His face glistened with sweat as fat tears fell into the sink that he clutched so tightly. White blond hair had fallen over his gray blood-shot eyes. Draco Malfoy couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror that hung to the wall in front of him, because to him, all he would see is a worthless failure and a pathetic excuse for a son. He gave an involuntary sob and shudder as he envisioned a tall, cloaked man with hair quite like his own. The eyes would have been the same, too, although this pair was old and lifeless due to the Dementors that surrounded his Azkaban cell. A cold voice rang throughout Draco's head. "If you do not succeed in the task I have placed before you, you will end up worse than your foolish father."

Draco clutched the sink harder so that his pale knuckles turned red. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind.

"I won't let you do it," he promised himself, voice shaking, "I won't let you kill us."

"You won't let who kill you!?"

The familiar voice of a girl echoed throughout the bathroom. Draco had almost forgotten that Moaning Myrtle was floating nearby, as she always was when he came in here. He turned his head and saw, through the unkempt hair in front of his face, that her translucent features were etched with a look of genuine concern. Draco gave another involuntary shudder and the ghostly girl moved, almost as if to hug him, when she seemed to remember she could not. He looked back down into the sink. It was quite wet, although the faucet had not been turned on all day. More images swirled through his head, which included the lifeless figure of an old man with a long gray beard covered in blood.

"I'm not a killer," Draco whispered to himself, his eyes shut, "I can't do it." Unable to control himself, he sobbed louder than ever.

Draco heard the door of the bathroom creak open. Instinctively, he dove a hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his wand. He spun around right as Myrtle gasped and a voice yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew into the air and was caught by a girl with brown-bushy hair. Her own wand was pointed directly at him.

"This is the boys' bathroom!" shrieked Myrtle, "How dare you come in here?"

Hermione Granger did not look away from Draco as she replied.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Myrtle looked furious. She opened her mouth to argue but was cut off before she could.

"Get out of here, Mudblood." Draco's voice was thick but intimidating nonetheless. He wanted more than anything to wipe the moisture from his eyes, but it would have only made it more obvious that he had been crying.

"What if I don't?" Hermione challenged, "You're wandless and I'm not."

Draco suddenly realized that the wand pointing at him was shaking. He smirked.

"You wouldn't dare send a spell at me."

"You had no problem sending one at me," Hermione reminded him. "Fourth year. My front teeth grew four times their size."

"Yeah? They look fine to me."

Hermione smiled. Draco suddenly felt annoyed. It wasn't supposed to be a compliment. He wanted to insult this girl, curse her, but a lump rose in his throat. He looked to Myrtle, who was still staring at Hermione with loathing.

"Tell me what is going on," Hermione said simply. Draco looked back at her again. Her face and the tone of her voice told him that it wasn't a demand but a request, and she was completely serious.

For a single fraction of a second, Draco felt distantly relieved in what Hermione had said. He shook that feeling away instantly, and convinced himself that it would have been a comfort to hear it from anyone.

"Why would I tell a Mudblood anything?"

"Why would you tell a ghost anything?" Hermione retorted, still not looking at Myrtle. The ghost shifted in the corner of Draco's eye, but Hermione went on before she had a chance to defend herself. "A ghost who wouldn't care if you were killed. In fact, she would probably prefer it. I expect she would enjoy the company. The two of you could cry your eyes out togeth-"

Draco, trembling from head to foot, advanced forward before she could finish her sentence. Before he could decide exactly how he was going to cause as much pain as he could to Hermione, she flicked her wand and muttered, "Protego." An invisible shield came between the two of them, causing Draco to stumble backwards a few steps.

"Why, you," fumed Myrtle, who was advancing to Hermione, her eyes filling with what looked like transparent tears, "You filthy, ugly-"

"And you do?" Draco's voice broke, as if he hadn't heard Myrtle at all. Myrtle quickly turned back to Draco and floated to his side for comfort, apparently afraid he was going to start crying again. If Draco could have swatted her away, he would have. He heaved a sigh and turned to the ghost.

"Would you please leave?"

Myrtle looked affronted. She glanced at Hermione, who had still not taken her eyes off Draco. Myrtle burst into sobs and flew into the nearest toilet.

Once the echoes of Moaning Myrtle's sobs faded away, silence fell around them for a few moments.

"And I do what?" Hermione finally said. She had lowered her wand but the Protego shield charm still lingered. Draco's impatience boiled up.

"And you would care if I was killed?" His voice was sinister, and his eyes remained on the place where Myrtle had just been. Another moment passed. When Hermione did not answer, Draco finally turned to look at her. She was looking at him with a curious expression, as if she was trying to figure him out. Draco suddenly felt the most uncomfortable since she had walked in.

Hermione seemed to have felt it too, because she quickly spoke again.

"I'm… I'm a prefect." she said lamely, "I heard crying outside the door. It's my job to help other students and to guide them-"

Draco felt another twinge of annoyance at her answer.

"I don't need guidance from a bloody Muggle," Draco laughed without humor, "And there is no possible way someone as insignificant as you are can help me."

He smirked. It was clear Hermione wanted to attack him but the Protego charm blocked her way. Draco wondered if she would wait for it to fade, or if she would counter charm it, or maybe even forget it's there and run at him anyway. He stood there, still smirking, waiting. Hermione suddenly turned on her heel and marched out of the bathroom. Draco's smile vanished immediately. He hadn't expected that to happen. Without her presence anymore, Draco's torturing thoughts swirled through his head once more. Did the room suddenly become colder? He stood there in the silence, wandless, and more alone than he had ever felt.


	2. Cauldron Fog

THE LENS OF PASSION

Chapter 2: Cauldron Fog

"I don't understand, Malfoy!' Blaise Zabini whispered in Potions class the same afternoon, "How did you lose your wand?"

Draco was crushing up beetles with the flat side of a knife a little more aggressively than what was probably required. The whole dungeon was filled with different colored fog that ranged from blue, to green, to brown, to gray. Draco's cauldron was giving off a very chestnut colored brown. He tossed the crushed beetles in it and it simmered.

"Look," Draco hissed to Blaise, "Will you lend me your wand this evening or not?"

"Of course not!" said Blaise, stirring his own concoction, "I would never let it go! It belonged to my father. He'd kill me if something happened to it. D'you reckon you know the bloke who took your wand?"

As if he was going to admit to Blaise that a Mudblood took his wand. Draco glanced at a table nearby. Through a light gray fog coming from her cauldron, Draco stared at Hermione, who was bent over her book reading instructions. He couldn't help but notice her eyes flickering every once and a while to Harry Potter's potions book, for he sat right beside her.

"How is everybody coming along now?" Professor Slughorn's jolly voice boomed, and he began making his way to peer inside each cauldron.

"What does this potion even do?" Blaise said angrily, who's cauldron was the only one in the room without any fog.

Slughorn beamed, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask just that. "Very good question, m'boy! Can anyone answer that? Anyone at all? Ah yes, Miss Granger."

Draco looked around at Hermione again. As usual, her hand had been waving around in the air, eager to answer the question.

"The Lens of Passion," Hermione began breathlessly, "Is a potion that is uniquely special to the individual who brewed it. Potion Masters like to call it a mixture between a Love Potion and Veritaserum, for it gives the drinker a truthful vision straight from their own heart."

A chorus of "ooooh" rang around the dungeon from the girls and, to Draco's amusement, that disgusting Neville Longbottom. Ron Weasley, who was sitting across form Hermione, snorted.

"What sort of rubbish is that?" he demanded, "You mean it tells you who you are in love with? I mean, how have you not figured that out for yourself?"

"A very interesting point, Mr. Weasley!" Slughorn was beaming again, "As we all know, love and lust are very complicated emotion. This potion detects either one that may lie within your heart. It is all a mystery. Some have been very surprised with this little potion. Can anyone tell the class what exactly happens when you drink it?"

Again, Hermione's hand shot in the air. She answered without being called on.

"Please, sir," she began, "you're suppose to drink it before you fall asleep. That way, the vision will come in a dream. If you brewed a strong batch properly, the vision will be clearer. It all depends."

"Excellent, Miss Granger," Slughorn praised her, "Ten points to Gryffindor! Yes, yes, and what your textbook fails to inform you is that the fog of your potion is quite special as well. Example, I think!"

Slughorn waddled around the table to Lavender Brown, who sat on the other side of Ron, far away from Hermione.

"Miss Brown? If I am correct, you and Mister Weasley are, shall I say, an item?"

Some of the class laughed and one person wolf-whistled. Ron's ears turned pink and Lavender only giggled and nodded. She looped her arm around Ron's and kissed his cheek, making Hermione turn away from them. For some reason, Draco's stomach turned uncomfortably. He shifted in his seat and focused on Professor Slughorn once again.

"Now, if you'll notice," Slughorn continued, "Miss Brown's potion seems to be giving off a sort of sky blue color. If you gather around here, yes, get close everyone..."

Draco, having no ambition whatsoever to move from where he sat, watched as everyone else got up out of their seats to crowd around Ron and Lavender's table.

"I want you to take a good look at Mister Weasley's eye color!" Slughorn pointed at Ron's face.

Everyone's eyes locked to Ron's, whose entire face was now pink.

"His eyes are the same color as Lavender's cauldron fog!" Parvati piped up.

Immediately, the class looked at Ron's cauldron and the thick brown fog that was coming from it, then looked into Lavender's hazel eyes. It seemed like every boy in the class was roaring with laughter while all of the girls gasped. Ron was now a deep red and Lavender was speechless.

"Oh, dear…" Draco heard Slughorn mutter to himself.

"You know me!" Ron said quickly to Lavender, "I must've brewed it wrong…"

"You must have brewed yours wrong as well," Blaise elbowed Draco in the side, "It looks like it's the same color as Weasley's. Pity that mine hasn't got any at all, wonder what that's suppose to mean…"

Draco had stopped paying attention to Blaise. He was looking over at Hermione again. She was looking into her cauldron with that same curious expression that she had shown him just hours ago. All of the students seemed to be looking into their cauldrons and then looking around the room, attempting to make eye contact with others. Draco looked around. Pansy Parkinson's fog was the same color as Hermione's. They had the only gray fog in the classroom. Pansy smiled and waved at Draco, who quickly turned and pretended to not see. He looked at Hermione again, whose eyes momentarily caught his but they both immediately looked away.

"Now, for your homework!" said Slughorn as the students were packing their things away, "Is to drink a cup of your potion one night this weekend before you go to bed. When you wake up, I would like you to record your dream. Please hand it in on Monday! Farewell!"

As the students made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, Draco made up his mind that he would go to the Room of Requirement and work on his task. He had thought of new experiments and spells to test on the stubborn cabinet. Heart pounding, he made his way down the corridor and up a few flights of stairs. He suddenly stopped when he remembered once again that he did not have a wand. Furious and giving into his rumbling stomach, he made his way to the Great Hall with everyone else.


	3. The Vision

THE LENS OF PASSION

Chapter 3: The Vision

The dormitory was dark except for the faint glow of melting snow coming through the window beside Draco's bed. It was only a week into March, and finally, the weather was warming up. Four boys around him were snoring, for they had fallen asleep hours ago, and they seemed to get louder by the minute. Becoming increasingly annoyed, Draco finally decided he had put up with it long enough and pulled the curtains shut around his bed. He muttered a charm to repel the sound. He lay back on his pillow in the silence and stared up at the ceiling without really looking at it. His mind swam to various different thoughts as it always had lately.

The vanishing cabinet still had a long way to go to being mended. How patient was the Dark Lord willing to be with him? Draco flinched at the thought and felt knots tighten in his stomach. His mind, for a brief moment, lingered on Hermione instead, and his blood pressure rose. He needed to get his wand back. Promising himself that he would get it back the very next day, he rolled over to his side in attempt to become more comfortable so that he'd at least have a chance of falling asleep tonight. As he did, he felt an uncomfortable pain on his thigh and realized something was in his pocket. Draco had forgotten all about changing out of his day's clothes, but he didn't care. Such trivial things hardly mattered to him these days. He reached into his pocket and extracted a tiny glass bottle filled with potion and remembered it was the very one he brewed in class that day.

Draco snorted. What a ridiculous assignment, he thought. He had pretty much half-arsed it, anyway. School itself had become one of those trivial things that also didn't matter. He stared at the tiny bottle for a few more minutes and remembered words that Hermione had spoken in class. "It gives the drinker a truthful vision straight from their heart" and, "You're supposed to drink it before you fall asleep. That way, the vision will come in a dream."

Thinking about it, Draco hadn't had a real dream in a long time. He only had nightmares. Just a few nights ago, Goyle had awoken him in the middle of the night to claim that Draco was shouting nonsense in his sleep. He was determined to not let this happen again in fear that his subconscious mind would let something slip accidentally, particularly about his dangerous task. Badly brewed though it was, maybe Draco could give it a try. Anything to bring peace to his mind was worth a try. He uncorked the bottle. A tiny puff of the brown smoke emitted from the bottle. He waited for it to vanish before downing the potion in one gulp. He tossed the bottle aside just as his heart gave an odd sort of jolt. It tasted peculiar, but Draco was suddenly much too tired to figure out exactly what. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Rows of shelves stacked with books upon books stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. Draco began to revolve on the spot, wondering which way he was supposed to go. He faced a particularly clear aisle and started to jog. The books never seemed to end. As he ran, he saw the shape of a large cabinet blur past him. He halted immediately and went back to it. There, in the middle of this endless library, was the vanishing cabinet he had already spent months on trying to fix. He began to approach it, but as he did, a voice caused him to freeze.

"You can't fix it now," it said. The voice was velvety yet intimidating and deep. Draco recognized the voice only too well, which made him slightly cower.

"F-father?" he looked around.

"You must find the book," Lucius spoke again, "You aren't concentrating hard enough. There is only one way. You will disappoint me greatly, but the Dark Lord will forgive you." Draco looked around desperately, but no one was in sight. In the mass piles of books lying all around where he stood, one of them in particular caught Draco's eye. He walked towards it without even thinking and picked it up. It was quite warm for a book.

"Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy," Draco muttered the title to himself, confused. What did a book about Genealogy have to do with fixing an old broken vanishing cabinet? He opened it and began flipping through its pages, which were all blank. However, a smell was coming off of the pages. Draco inhaled deeply. It reminded him of fresh grass, perhaps littered with a garden of flowers. It was absolutely intoxicating. He didn't want to put the book down. He had almost forgotten where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. Everything was dissolving away, and Draco was happier than he had ever felt.

"Oi! Get up!"

Draco's eyes snapped open. The dormitory was completely lit. His heart was beating fast as he sat up. He frantically looked around his bed, but the book was nowhere to be found.

"Where did you put it?!" Draco snapped at Crabbe, who now looked alarmed.

"Put what?" he said dumbly.

"My book!" Draco yelled impatiently.

"You were breathing really loud and slow," Crabbe grunted, sounding worried, "I think you were dreaming."

Draco looked around his bed again, unable to believe it, until he saw a small empty glass bottle where his potion was the night before. Was that bizarre dream actually a vision? If so, what did the cabinet and book have to do with passion? What a bunch of rubbish, he thought savagely. He got up to dig through his trunk and pulled out a fresh pair of clothes. Draco was relieved to realize it was Saturday. He threw on a pair of black slacks and a deep emerald sweater. He thought about the vision as he dressed. Maybe he should find that book? He remembered he still needed to get his wand back today and wondered if Hermione would be in the library this early. If so, he could cover two birds with one stone. Although that book seemed like it would be worthless in helping him fix the cabinet, he was desperate enough to try anything at this point.


	4. Realization

The Lens of Passion

Chapter 4: Realization

"Excuse me," Draco said rudely, "Where can I find a copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy?"

Madame Pince, the thin and irritable looking librarian who resembled a vulture, was creeping up and down aisles in the library trying to catch students in the act of mistreating her beloved books. Draco had obviously taken her off guard, for she jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned towards him sharply.

"I'm sorry, we don't have that book," she told him, not sounding sorry at all.

"You don't have it?" Draco said angrily, "There are thousands of books here. What kind of library is this?"

The librarian looked as if she'd claw Draco's eyes out with her talons if she had any.

"How dare you!" she hissed, "We don't have it. I would know. Now either find a different book or leave!"

She crept away, leaving Draco muttering nasty words. Maybe I can still find the Mudblood, he thought. There weren't many people in the library. It was a Saturday, after all. Draco wandered up and down the aisles with no sign of her. He did, however, pass the red haired Weasley girl who seemed to be silently arguing with another Gryffindor boy. He decided it was best to not raise suspicion by demanding to them of Hermione's whereabouts and continued on. Several more aisles passed and pretty soon no one was in sight. Draco turned around in a circle. Endless stacks of books and shelves was all he saw. He was reminded of his vision. More like just a pointless dream, he thought, annoyed. He was about to make his way out when he heard a light sneeze some aisles away. Following the sound, Draco finally found what he was looking for.

Hermione sat alone between two shelves, perched on a stool, her nose in a dusty book. He sat and watched her for a moment, wondering exactly how to confront her. He listened to her mutter random things like, "Prince my arse," and, "Bloody Half-Blood.." Draco couldn't help but grin. Was she actually discriminating?

His heart nearly lept out of his chest the moment he saw exactly what she was reading.

"Nature's Nobility!" he exclaimed, and for the second time, he caught someone so off guard that Hermione jumped and dropped the book. Getting his wand back was suddenly far from his mind. "What are you reading that book for, Granger?"

Hermione's face had turned positively red, but Draco was too curious and annoyed to wonder why.

"I was- err, research," she said.

"Research?" Draco laughed, "For what class, exactly?"

"What do you care?" Hermione said defensively, picking up the book again.

"Well, where did you get it?" he was getting more and more impatient with her.

"Siri- err, Lupin gave it to me," Her lie was obvious. "Professor Lupin. Last year over the summer."

Draco's eyebrows came together and he grimaced. "That bloody werewolf?"

Hermione looked even more annoyed than Draco felt.

"For your information," she said through gritted teeth, "he was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had. If you would like to borrow my book, be my guest."

She handed the book to Draco and muttered to herself, though he could still hear her, "It only mentions Eileen Prince, but doesn't give a full description of the woman..."

Draco didin't care what that meant. He took the book from her without a "Thank you." Hermione got up to leave. As she passed him, Draco caught a wiff of fresh grass and flowers. His heart seemed to leap out of his stomach as whirled around so fast, he also dropped the book.

"Why do you smell like grass?" Draco demanded loudly. Hermione jumped again.

"Grass?" she said blankly, "That's none of your-"

"Just tell me!" he snapped. His heart was positively throbbing in his chest. He took half a step closer to her in attempt to smell it again. It was the same, sweet, intoxicating smell of his vision and he wanted more.

By Hermione's different expressions, and the way she opened her mouth and closed it again a few times, she seemed to be silently debating whether or not to tell him something. Eventually, she spoke.

"I had a.. dream," she said quietly, "that my cat, Crookshanks, wanted to play in the Greenhouse gardens. So I took him there this morning. Is that a problem?"

Draco didn't say anything. Was she lying about her own vision, or did she actually dream that? He had to know.

"Did you," he began awkwardly, avoiding contact with the familiar brown color of her eyes, "happen to do your Potions homework last night?"

This time, Hermione was silent. She seemed to be repeating that same ritual of deciding whether or not to tell him something. Draco waited, only this time, he was quite patient.

"Yes," she said finally.

Draco's heart was beating faster yet. A moment went by in silence.

"What else did you see?" his voice was quieter than hers.

"I had to give that to you," Hermione said, pointing at Nature's Nobility, which still lay on the ground. "I'm.. supposed to help you."

Draco suddenly remembered yesterday, when Hermione had walked in on him in the boys' bathroom crying. He remembered himself saying to her, "There is no possible way someone as insignificant as you are can help me." He had never felt more wrong.

He took another half a step forward. Hermione didn't seem to notice. Draco could smell the grassy scent coming from her clothes and hair again. He tried to unnoticeably take a deep breath. He couldn't understand what made it so comfortable to smell grass as if he never had before. Maybe it was the vision again. The smell had made him so happy, so light, like he could do anything in the world. Not caring if it was obvious or not, Draco took another full step towards Hermione, who looked rather scared. He had come to a realization so large that shock coursed throughout his body.

"It's not the book I need," his voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper. She was close enough to hear him perfectly anyway. "It's... you."

Hermione didn't say anything. Her eyes were wide, as if she had realized something, too.

"Are you-," his voice broke. He racked his brain hard to put the right words together. She must have known all along without any potion, unlike Draco. He felt incredibly stupid. "Are you in love with me, Hermione?"

Silence had never sounded so loud to Draco. He started at her with large wondering eyes (perhaps because it was the first time he had called her by her first name?) and saw something he had never seen before. Here in front of him stood the know-it-all braniac Muggleborn from Gryffindor that he had despised the entire six years he has known her. How many times had he called her a filthy Mudblood? Somehow, there was no Mudblood anymore. He saw a beautiful girl in front of him, staring back, with eyes more brown and more beautiful than a cauldron full of fog could ever attempt to portray. He waited desperately for her to speak, self-concious of the fact that it was probably possible for her to hear his heart hammering, which pounded so loudly against his chest.

Hermione looked down at his hand with a sudden concerned look on her face. She reached out and took it. Draco was caught off guard by how small and warm hers was, for he had never touched or noticed her hands before. It was as warm as the book in his vision. She took a step closer but still never looked at him. She was suddenly pulling up the sleeve of his deep emerald sweater. Draco was completely bewildered. Then realization hit him again before she spoke.

"No Dark Mark," she smiled and looked back up to his face, relieved. "There was a Dark Mark in my vision. It's not too late."

Draco couldn't help but smile at the sight of her's. It was the most real smile he had ever felt. Without planning it, without expecting it at all, he filled the remaining space between and placed his hands on her cheeks. Hermione was exactly with him. Before he could do anything else, she had seized the collar of his sweater and pulled his face to hers, devouring his lips in an urgent kiss. Draco's mind, stomach, heart, and body were on fire. He curved a hand around her jaw and through her soft bushy hair, while the other hand went to wrap around the side of her neck. Hermione was desperately clutching to every bit of him that she could.

The broken Vanishing Cabinet. A father locked up in a cell in Azkaban prison. The vivid nightmares night after night. The fact that if he did not have one of the most powerful wizards of the age at his mercy soon, then he would be killed. Draco forgot everything. Nothing existed in these moments except for him, Hermione, and their need for each other. Neither of them could explain how or where it came from. All that mattered is that it was there.

After a few moments, Draco broke apart from Hermione for air. She was breathing as if she had just run a mile, and Draco couldn't help but feel a little bit smug. She was smiling that smile at him again.

"We have Apparition practice soon," she said breathlessly. Draco frowned a little. He didn't want to accept the fact that they would have to leave. He gave her another kiss, but short and sweet. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and burried her face in his shoulder. Draco didn't know which he preferred: her warm breath on his neck or the smell of her hair. Either way, he wrapped her arms around her, too, and closed his eyes. Best homework assignment ever, he thought and laughed. Hermione didn't notice.

Somewhere, miles and miles away, a certain Dark Lord was growing impatient.

A/N: So, as I said in chapter 1, this was written by a friend of mine and is now up for adoption. Just contact me and I'll make it happen!! And, though she isn't writing anymore, reviews will surely be appreciated. I'll pass them on to her.

02/23/10: Ok, I knmow this has been up and down on whether or not she's going to continue. She has given me a definite answer that no, she will not be continuing this story. I apologize for this inconvienence. Please, if you would like to adopt this story, contact me.


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